Adventures in Babysitting
by Apathyisdeath
Summary: Babysitting is really something you shouldn't let an Exile and a certain flyboy pilot of hers attend to. Especially when she's terrified of kids.


It was quite late in the night as the _Ebon Hawk _and its crew slept peacefully on the landing pad of Dantooine. Every member of the crew were peaceful. The Exile was asleep in her room, Kreia was meditating silently in her chambers, Atton was drifting through different nightmares and Bao-Dur sat where he had fallen asleep at his workbench after working hard the previous night. And the newest addition to the crew of the_ Ebon Hawk_, Mical, was sleeping deeply in the med bay. He had been looking through the med bay's enormous storage when he had sat down for a quick nap.

But further inside the _Hawk_, the Exile's eyes shot open. There was some sort of odd disturbance in the Force that was spread out around her ship, waking her from her sleep. She slowly pulled her covers off and placed bed-temperature toes onto the cold metal floor and shivered as they made contact. It was a cold Telosian-winter and Trija was freezing cold in her boring nightwear. She groped around in the dark for her dressing gown that was thick and made of bantha wool. It was deliciously warm.

Trija poked her head out of her door. No one was in sight. Good. Her training back on Dantooine would help her spot any enemies. Or, even worse, any lurking crews members that might see her in her pyjamas. She tried to silently creep out into the main section of the _Hawk_ and see if she could figure out what was happening. Trija could hear HK-47 having an animated debate with T3-M4 in a nearby corridor;  
"Statement: I am just merely stating that, if you did indeed kill a meatbag, you would enjoy it."  
"Beep-woooo"  
"Explanation: No, not one of my master's crew. That would go against my brilliant, dreadful programming."  
"Brrr-whurr-tick."  
"Patronising statement: Well, little one, we all know what's going to happen with those two meatbags--"

Trija heard the debate quieten as she slowly made her way over to the direction of the landing ramp. Surely things would be easier to sense there.  
"Nice outfit! I must say, not as good as some others I've seen you in, but still." Came a voice from behind her. Trija groaned to herself and looked up at the ceiling, as if asking it for help. She would recognise that cocky anywhere. She steeled herself for the blush that would eventually come and turned around slowly to see the person who she knew owned that voice. Atton was leaning against the entrance to the cockpit, arms folded and with his usual arrogant grin right in place. Trija sighed wistfully. Images passed through her head. It could have been as if she had been looking at a clone of herself's future. She shook her head and looked up at Atton. The Exile knew it would be a good idea to give him her best evil look, but she just couldn't. She turned and continued towards the ramp.  
"Hey, wait--"  
"Why are you up so late then?" Trija shot at Atton, raising her eyebrows. He shrugged, not quite knowing himself.  
"I don't know," he said in a blasé way "something woke me up. Like something kind of...ran through my nightmares." He trailed off quietly and sadly, moving his eyes to the floor. Trija turned to face him a little too quickly from where she had been facing the wall.  
"What did you say?" She asked quietly. It sounded like Atton could've been woken up like she had. Through the Force. But that was ridiculous. He was a scroundel, and nothing more. Just a handsome, bewitching, charming--

Trija shook herself from her list of Atton's features. She coughed nervously. Why had she just done that? She mentally slapped herself. Stupid Trija, she thought, stop it! Atton had looked up from the floor to meet her gaze with his mouth slightly open in what she could only assume was surprise.  
"Erm...I got woke up by something running through a--um--nightmare I was having. It was like a huge flash of light that kind of...pushed my dream away and pulled me into consciousness." Trija move closer to Atton. He looked at her as if she might reach up and slap him, but instead she gently moved forwards. Atton seem to ease up as she got closer. She reached out a hand to his face, her palm sideways, as if testing something. The Exile closed her eyes with a look of complete bliss on her face. She was feeling the Force that surrounded Atton. Yes, it was there. It was undeniable. It was weak, but it was there. She opened her eyes slowly and let her hand slip back to her side. Atton was lookng at her with a look of confusion and awe. She did not know why there was awe there, but he made it clear.  
"Atton, are you--" Trija began but was cut off by the sound of a loud splash outside piercing the night air. It must have been something in the nearby river. That may have been a reason for the disturbance. A wake-up sign for something dangerous that could happen. There was another sound that followed soon after. It sounded like fast footsteps. Someone running? Both Atton and Trija ripepd their eyes from each other's faces to survey the ramp that hid the noises away like a blanket. Trija was the first to move towards the ramp.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked over it to see Atton.  
"No, wait--" Trija ignored him and began to pull down the ramp noisily. There were loud rattles, but they did not matter now. Trija dashed down the ramp as fast as she could to step out into the night air. Atton was yelling behind her.  
"Hey, wait! Wait! Trija!" She carried on, completely relentless. Atton started to follow her at the same pace.  
"I hope you know what's--" Trija shushed him. She pointed to the river and he followed as she carefully strolled over there.  
"It's a bit cold to be walking around with no shoes on, Trija. Come back in the _Hawk_." Atton offered.  
"Stop being such a wuss," she jeered playfully. And that was when she saw it in the river. Just floating there. Still alive and looking up at her with a delighted grin. She staggered backwards, bumping into Atton, who caught her elbows. No, anything but this. Anything. No, no, no.

"What's wrong?" Atton inquired, spotting her terrified expression gazing far off in to the distance "What's so shocking?" He sat Trija on a nearby crate. She was still looking shocked to the core. Atton prepared himself to witness what would be in the river. It couldn't be too bad. Or could it? What could possibly make the Exile turn into an emotion-fueled crackpot? Not much, he'd assume. It must be really bad. He sighed.  
"Here goes, nothing then, Trij," he told the thin air. He glanced over the river and it took a while for his mind to process what he saw in the lazy river.

Atton knelt in front of a now shocked, but quite normal Jedi Sentinel.  
"A kid! A baby?! It's a frackin' kid in a basket. Still alive, too. And you go to pieces on me?" Atton said incredulously. He couldn't believe it. This woman had survived wars, witnessed murders, but she was terrified of a baby giggling in a basket on a river that could be mistaken for a path.  
"I-I'm sorry, Atton," she mumbled "I just...don't like kids. Never did. I mean, all that pain for a terror like that? No thanks!" Atton rolled his eyes. A view usually sported by a rebelious teenager, not a thirty-something Jedi Exile. He sighed once again to himself.  
"Guess I'll go and fish the poor 'brat' out." Trija placed a stubborn hand on his forearm.  
"No, I mean, maybe someone lost it? I mean, they'll come back for it soon enough. Leave it and come back inside." Trija pretty much begged. Atton knew she was desperate because she added her last sentence in a seductive manner. Atton stopped for a moment.  
"Right, have fun with that. I'm gonna go rescue that kid." Atton said bitterly. Trija sighed to herself as she watched Atton for the best part of half an hour getting the baby out of the river. She groaned as he held it at arm's length, as if he would catch a disease. As soon as he neared her, she took the basket.  
"What a great parent you'd be," she spat out sarcastically. Atton stopped. He didn't get the Exile. Now she was bonding with the kid? He shrugged to himself and followed her as she tryed to open the ramp with one hand full of a basket and the other trembling.  
"Here," he offered "lemme do it". Atton opened the ramp noisily. As their eyes adjusted to light, Trija trotted into the cockpit and harshly placed the baby on a makeshift table that she had forgot to fold away the night before.

"There ya go, Atton," she yelled evilly "She's all yours!"  
"How can you tell it's a girl?" Atton asked, perplexed at how someone could tell the gender of a child that yet had no gender-defining features.

"I just can, alright?" Trija made the leave the cockpit.  
"Hey, wait, you can't just leave me with a kid. I don't know anything about them!"  
"Well, neither do I. Have a good time figuring it out!" Atton had to laugh at this.  
"Ohh, no. You are not leaving me. Sorry about that, sugar." He chuckled, reaching out to grab Trija's arm to stop her from going. He had one hand on her arm and the other hand now holding the child's basket and trying to figure out some sort of swaying method to soothe the child.  
"LET GO OF ME!" Trija yelled at Atton.  
"No! Take responsibility!"  
"NEVER!" There were footsteps coming towards the doorway. Trija looked up. It was Mical. It must have looked odd. Her trying to pull her arm from Atton's grasp and him holding a baby in his other hand.  
"Err...ahem. Hey, er-Mical. You're up early." Trija said in a nonchalant voice, as if this was what everybody did in their spare time. Mical rubbed his eyes sleepily and looked up to behold the scene in front of him.  
"Yes, is everything ok? I heard-" He trailed off when he took in the scene. Things he did not like to hear together in a sentence, now that he thought about it. Trija, Atton, baby, yelling. He rubbed his eyes again, this time rougher, as if to make sure he was not dreaming.  
"Erm..." he continued.  
"Do ya mind, blondie?" Atton growled angrily. Mical just took one last glance off the room and backed out and galloped back to the med bay without looking back.

"Well, that was fun!" Trija yelled sarcastically.  
"Sure was!" Atton was being truthful. It had been funny too see the Disciple kid's face. Priceless.  
"Well, let me go, now." Trija said harshly.  
"You're really stubborn tonight aren't you?" Atton growled, this time not angrily.  
"Yes, now let go--"  
"Not until-" It was not the first time Atton had been cut off that night in what he had been saying. This was because Trija had pulled him towards her and leant up without a second of hesitation to cement her lips to his for a long, but too short, moment. Trija withdrew, not even looking at Atton. There were no words to describe what was going through both of their heads. She had read about the fireworks. She checked. Oh, yes. They were there.

"Erm...I'm going to just...go back to bed now." Trija stuttered in shock and disbelief at herself.  
"Y-yeah. 'Night." Atton said, probably a long time after she had left. He shook his head to clear the fog from his mind. Did that just happen? He plonked himself down onto the pilot's chair and giggled giddily to himself. Oh yes, it had. Atton leant back in his chair to fall in to asleep with dreams, not nightmares, that he assumed would be full of the Exile. The Exile telling the Disciple that she suddenly no longer wanted him aboard the _Hawk_. He was just about to sleep when he heard it. The shrill cry of a baby. Oh, frack, he thought. He growled at the very recent memory of the Exile. She was so devious. One way or another, he was going to get her back. He grinned. Yep, big time. But for the moment, he savoured every smell and every feeling.


End file.
